PLAYING IT OUT

By Atonia Walpole

Part 10:

After the Fall

“And that ladies and gentlemen concludes my presentation,” Cal quipped and sat down at the conference table.

A small applause and he smiled.

“You’ve done an excellent job, Cal, just brilliant,” Cam said

“It’s been a real trip, man,” Hank added, pushing his chair back.

“Thanks to all of you who helped make it possible.” Cal sat back in his chair.

“Is there an award coming, some statue or newspaper encased in Lucite or something?” Pete asked.

“Not a thing. Where do you think you work?” Cam said almost smiling and getting up from her chair. “Let’s go to press with this. Della, have you got your bit ready?”

“Yes, I do. It’s ready to go up.”

Cal sighed and closed his notebook. It was finished, a solid month of work with stories going out daily had cleaned out most of the known dirty hands on capitol hill. He was ready for a celebratory drink. He looked around for Della but she had already gone to put her blog up.

He felt light on his feet walking back to his cubicle, like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He was gathering up his things when his cell phone went off. “McAffery,” he said, bending down and picking up his bag.

“Cal.”

“Anne, where are you?”

“I’m at the bar at the Watergate.”

“I’m on my way. Are you okay?”

“No.”

He rushed out of the office, not stopping or acknowledging when Della called his name from her cubicle.

He found Anne at one of the little side bars alone and drinking. Folding her into his arms, he kissed her briefly. “What is it?”

“It’s over, the trial, the marriage, the divorce; it’s all over. I don’t have a purpose anymore. I’m not needed here anymore.”

Cal ordered a drink. “It’s been a long time.”

“I know. I’m sorry for hurting you, sorry for everything.”

“There’s nothing…what are you going to do now?”

“I’m going home, my home, and try to get my life back together. I’ll have to find a job. I can sell some property.”

“That’s good, getting out of town is good. I didn’t contact you because I didn’t want to cause you any trouble. I didn’t want our names linked.”

“That’s what I thought. I’ve heard rumors about you.”

“Yeah, what’s in the mill?”

“That you have a girl, a reporter at The Globe, Della Frye. I saw her once in court. She tried to talk to me.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“I never did.”

“So here we are,” she said, slightly smiling.

“Yeah, when are you leaving to go home?”

“Tomorrow. I’ve a 3:00 flight. I wanted to see you.”

“I’m here.”

“I know. You said you would be when it was over. I’m, ah, staying here tonight, have been for awhile. It took some courage to call you.”

“How many?” he smiled.

“Three so far…so far.” She leaned into him.

“You want to get drunk, take a bottle to the room for old times’ sake?”

“With you…yes…oh, yes, Cal.”

Cal paid the tab and bought a bottle from the bar tender.

Once upstairs in the room Anne fell against him. ”God, have I missed you!” She held his face in her hands and kissed him.

“Mmm, Anne.” He kissed her back.

“I’ve always loved you, Cal. You know that. I wanted you more.” She buried her head in his chest. “More than you ever wanted me.”

“That’s not true.”

“We’re through with all that, aren’t we, Cal? There’s nobody left but you and me. Love me, Cal, please, like I know you can.”

He made love to her, all the years of loving her without hope coming to a climax he could hardly bear.

“My God, Cal,” she said against his neck, “ where the hell have you been?”

They opened the bottle then and with glasses filled and refilled, laughed and cried and laughed again.

“We’ve a lot of history between us, Anne,” he said.

“Yes, it’s not all been rosy but think of the good times we’ve had. Oh, Cal,” she lay back on the propped up pillows, “my life would have been so different if you’d just come forward and declared yourself.”

“It probably would have. You’d be living in a walk-up somewhere, maybe the same one I live in. You would have missed it all, Anne, all the excitement, the money, the recognition. You would have been Mrs. Cal McAffrey, and who would know her?”

“You would, what more could a woman want? Besides you’re famous now. I’ve been reading your stuff. I love you, Cal,” she turned her head and kissed his chest. “Is there any hope for us, can we start over, can we  just be?”

“I don’t know, Anne. It would be quite a comedown for you to live with me. You know where I live. You’ve seen it. I don’t have a lot to offer.”

“Cal, you know me. I don’t need all that glitz. Damn, I lived in a van once! You remember that. I used to shower in the gym bathroom. I’ve had it all. I’ve had the fame and the limelight. It’s false, it wasn’t real, and you know where I am now, how far I’ve fallen.”

“You haven’t mentioned him all night,” Cal said quietly and refilled their glasses.

“He’s not here. Do you think he’s here? Hell, no, he’s not here! Cal, he’s gone, that golden boy I knew is gone. I don’t want to talk about him. Why did you bring him up? It’s just us now, only you and me.”

He didn’t know why he’d brought him up. It was a mistake. Now Stephen was there. True, they did have a lot of history together but there had been three of them, sometimes four. Only for a brief time had there ever been only the two of them.  He filled her glass again and his own.  Maybe there was too much history, he thought. He took a drink and it hit him; he didn’t love her. When that had happened he didn’t know. It was a shock, hitting him like a punch in the stomach. He leaned forward, resting his head on his knees. He thought he might cry.

“Woopsie,” she said, trying to sit up a little straighter. She’d spilled her drink.

“I’ll get you a towel.” He got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a hand towel. Anne was passed out. He dried the whiskey from her breast and sat down on the side of the bed. He lay down beside her, gathered her in his arms, kissed her forehead and brushed her hair out of her face. He was a little drunk himself, but not enough. He got up, went into the bathroom and took a shower, and when he was dressed he took one last look at her, covering her with the sheet then left the room.

When he got downstairs to the lobby he couldn’t remember where he’d parked his car. He pulled out his cell phone and checked the time, 2:30 am. His phone was ringing…no, he’d punched a number.

“Hello…hello?” Della felt for the light switch on her bedside lamp.

“Della?”

“Cal?”

“Della, come and get me.”

“Cal, where are you? You sound, are you all right?” Della sat up in bed.

“I’m at the Watergate…come and get me, Della…please.”

“I’m coming, Cal, I’m on my way.”

THE END

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